


Gravity

by rainbowdracula



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, shiro needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9374606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: Shiro takes care of the team. Keith takes care of Shiro.Or: how to break and come back together in five parts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My thoughts while watching Voltron: who was maintaining Shiro's smooth face and impeccable undercut during his captivity?
> 
> This started out its life as a warm-up that got out of my control...

"I am surrendering to gravity and the unknown.

Catch me, heal me, lift me back up to the sun—

I choose to live."

\- _Gravity,_ A Perfect Circle

**i.**

"I could use a shave."

Keith looked up from the tablet he was reading look at Shiro standing in front of the bathroom mirror. His back was to Keith, his human hand reaching up to touch his bristly cheek. Keith's neck and thighs were red with the proof of that statement, yet Shiro wasn't moving. Keith stood, grabbing a desk chair and wheeling it into the bathroom.

"Sit," Keith told Shiro. He collaspsed into the chair, and Keith looked at the straight razor and shaving cream by the sink. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," Shiro admitted. Keith kissed his forehead and ran hot water over a towel. He pressed it to Shiro's face, wetting his skin, before grabbing the shaving cream. Keith spread the cream over Shiro's too gaunt cheeks, his sharp jaw, his corded neck, and grabbed the straight razor.

Keith stood behind Shiro and the only sound in the room was Keith methodically dragging the razor up Shiro's skin, the barest rasp echoing in the bathroom. Shiro was breathing deep and easy, his tightly coiled shoulders relaxing by slow increments. Keith shaved his cheeks, the runny little hairs on his upper lip, and his chin. He laid his free hand over Shiro's eyes and slowly tilted his head back to reveal where he was soft and vulnerable. Shiro let him with a shaky exhale.

Keith shaved here, too, quick and precise. When he pulled away, hands leaving Shiro, Shiro didn't move or open his eyes. Keith washed away the lingering shaving cream, spreading aftershave over the newly smoothed skin.

"There," Keith said. "Baby faced once more."

Shiro opened his eyes and turned to look at the mirror. He smiled.

"Thank you," he said, soft and sincere. Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro's shoulders, resting his cheek on Shiro's head.

"Can't have you roughing up my skin, can I?" Keith murmured.

 

**ii.**

A diplomatic mission on a peaceful planet shouldn't have Shiro clenching his jaw and checking for exits, but Shiro's mind hasn't been his friend lately. Sometimes a fluttering robe or a sliding door sent Shiro's brain to dark places for reasons he couldn't untangle. Keith was a welcome, silent weight to lean against as Allura did her diplomacy thing.

"Will you and the Red Paladin be sharing a room?" an attendant asked, startling Shiro out of his thoughts.

"Um—" he stumbled.

"Yes," Keith answered. Shiro smiled gratefully. The attendants all twittered.

"Please change into more comfortable clothing before tonight's feast!" the blue-skinned emperor boomed to all of them. "We've provided some traditional garments for you..."

Shiro and Keith's room seemed larger than the others, with a single bedroll and a view out into the lake. Lance peered through their door with jealousy.

"Ugh," Lance said. "I should pretend to be married to Shiro to get digs like this."

Keith shut the door on his face.

Shiro stared at the pair of robes hanging in the wardrobe – one black and edged with silver, the other vivid crimson and gold. Keith's hands splayed across the unarmored part of Shiro's back, and Shiro let out a breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Shiro shrugged.

Keith stepped back, stripping out of his armor, and Shiro followed suit until they were both bare before each other. The air wasn't charged or tense with eroticism, just the bone-deep contentment that Keith has seen all of Shiro, and still thought him beautiful.

Keith drew the black robe off its hook and Shiro raised his arms so Keith could slip it on him. He tied the belt and adjusted the collar, hiding Shiro's scarring as much as possible. Shiro swallowed and did the same, the red of the robe blooming bright against Keith's skin.

"You look amazing," Shiro said honestly. Keith smiled, gentle and private, and he kissed Shiro's nose, right over the scar.

"Come on," Keith said. "We'll be late."

Without hesitation, Shiro followed him out the door.

 

**iii.**

Another planet saved from the Galra, another grateful population, another day of Shiro's muscles aching.

Grimy and sore, Shiro stripped off his armor and boots in the room they had provided. There were alien petals on the bed, the story of the romance between the Black and Red Paladins spreading with tales of Voltron's glories. No one asked if Shiro and Keith would share a room anymore, they just assumed. Shiro didn't know how he felt about this, his love a glaring crack in his armor, his skewed and biased judgement broadcasted across galaxies, his inability to sacrifice his selfish desire—

"Shiro."

Keith stood in the doorway of the bathroom in a light robe, steam rolling behind him. He held his hands out, palms up, and Shiro took them, letting himself be led to the wide basin of hot water. Keith stripped Shiro out of his undersuit and dropped his robe, descending into the deep basin.

Under the water was a bench and Keith sat on it, back to the rim and water to his chest. Shiro leaned against him, back to front, and already the water was relaxing his aching bones. Keith dipped an empty bowl into the water and Shiro tilted his head back to let the water run through his hair and down his shoulders.

Keith selected a vial of cleaning oil and poured it on his hands; it reminded Shiro of cedar and woodsmoke, and he groaned as Keith massaged it into his scalp with slow circles. Keith spread the oil down to the buzzed part of his hair and massaged it into his tense neck and shoulders until Keith relaxed.

Shiro ducked underwater to wash out the oil, leaving him clean and loose-limbed. Keith hummed, arms wrapping around Shiro's chest.

"Now you don't smell gross," Keith said. Shiro smiled, resting his hands on Keith's forearms, and let himself be held.

 

**iv.**

Shiro couldn't sleep.

He stared at the ceiling in his bedroom, the Castle's simulated night all around him. Beside him on their ad-hoc double bed, Keith was asleep on his side, and his bare back shown like the moon in the dark. Behind Shiro's eyelids were red and himself.

He didn't like himself much, lately.

With a soft sigh, Shiro sat up and pulled on a shirt and some shoes – the training room it was. The lights turned on when Shiro entered, like it had been waiting for him.

He didn't go to the training programs, instead opting to work out his tired frustrations on the punching bag. There was something in him, deep under his skin and sinew that wanted to scream at his team, snap at Keith, rip his opponents in two. He couldn't tell if it was born in the gladiator pits or simply awakened there – he became the Champion for a reason, it couldn't have just been his desperation to survive, he was a time bomb waiting to go off and unleash this dark thing lurking inside him—

The door swished open and there stood Keith, sleep rumbled and wearing Shiro's shirt. He was beautiful, and Shiro's chest was heaving. Barefoot, he crossed the training room to stand in front of Shiro. Keith took Shiro's human hand, the bare knuckles now battered, and then the Galran one, bringing up both to rest on his face.

"Come back to bed," Keith said. "I sleep better when you're there to keep me safe."

Tears welled up in Shiro's eyes and with a sob he fell to his knees, clinging to Keith like a supplicant. Keith threaded his fingers through Shiro's hair, letting him cry into his stomach as he stood firm as bedrock.

 

**v.**

The world's capital was a blend of metal that seemed to grow from the towering jungle trees, the thick canopy leaving it in a state of perpetual twilight. Shiro climbed p the winding staircase to the treehouse offered to him, after a grueling meeting with the high priestesses of the planet's theocracy. He was no good at diplomacy, but they had been insistent that they talk to the "leaders of the Voltron Alliance."

He entered the round room to see that the door to the balcony was open and Keith was sitting out there in loose pants and Shiro's shirt. Shiro took off his armor before joining him.

"Hey," Keith said when Shiro sat next to him. "How did it go?"

"Who knows," Shiro replied. "But the Princess seemed happy afterwards."

Keith hummed, brushing Shiro's fringe from his eyes. Shiro leaned into the touch; Keith shifted, stretching his legs out and drawing Shiro down to rest his head in his lap. Below, the tree city glittered like an alien sky, and above Keith was smiling at him, and for the first time in a while, Shiro's mind felt quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm at rainbowdracula at Tumblr,](https://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/) where you can see my coming and going obsessions with things.


End file.
